It is such a huge relief to have SOMEONE to talk to about these things! All of my here friends are dead and gone! The younger generations look at me as though my memories are off the chart and I have cracked up!
When I was twelve years old, and my grandmother and I were living alone because my uncles and all had gone off to war, not to mention my parents, who had also, she would give me a quarter to go up the street to the grocer. No carts. No aisles. Just a counter, where you either gave the clerk a list, which he or she filled in a cardboard box, or you were just handed the items, if only a few. I would ask for a loaf of Wonder bread and a quart of milk. The bread had a very large 8¢ in bright blue on each end. Eight cents for the bread. The milk came in a glass quart bottle with a bubble on top of the neck. The bubble contained pure cream. Twelve cents for the milk. I gave the clerk my quarter, time and time and time again, and got a nickel back. Sometimes I would sort of hang around before skedaddling up the street, but grandma wouldn't say anything. Sometimes she felt I had been extra good and deserved a reward, and she would tell me I could spend the nickel change. Whoopee! I always thought about every possibility, and almost always wound up getting a creamsicle. Remember creamsickles? Orange sherbert around vanilla ice cream. Yum!
I think my descendents think I am lying through my teeth about the prices!
